


Plagiarized Words

by nhasablog



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Fluff, Foot Massage, M/M, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 08:26:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13290984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhasablog/pseuds/nhasablog
Summary: When Oliver finds Elio after his nosebleed he tries to give him a foot massage, but he encounters some difficulties when Elio refuses to be still.





	Plagiarized Words

**Author's Note:**

> Second Call Me By Your Name fic today. Third one this week. No, I don’t have any self control. This is essentially me taking an already existing scene and rewriting it the way I think it should’ve gone (and thought for a second would happen and cried when it didn’t).

When Oliver reached out to grab Elio’s foot, the last thing he’d expected was for Elio to yank it away. A surprised jerk before he allowed Oliver to work his magic on his stiff limbs? Sure. But not a proper withdrawal with an accompanying yelp.

No, he really hadn’t expected that.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked instantly, concerned. He really didn’t need to add to the mess he’d already created.

Elio shook his head, dropping the bloody napkin on the floor beside him. “You just surprised me.”

Oliver was satisfied with that, and promptly grabbed the foot again to proceed with his initial intention, but Elio pulled it away again.

“What are you doing?”

“I was planning on giving you a foot massage,” he replied, knowing full well that that wasn’t the correct term for the bending he was about to do. “Why do you keep flinching?”

“You just surprised me.”

“You said that.”

“I didn’t know your intentions.”

“Do you ever, really?”

“That’s besides the point.”

“I’m trying to help you. Will you let me?”

Elio nodded, slowly, and placed his foot in his lap. Oliver watched him for a moment, pondering. Elio had never had any problem with him touching him before, especially not after all the cards had been put on the table. This sudden change startled him. Elio couldn’t possibly have changed his mind due to the nosebleed, could he?

Oliver grabbed his ankle to position the foot better in his grip, refusing to think of Elio’s body warning him that this was all a bad idea. Fortunately Elio once again pulling his foot away kept him distracted, though he reckoned it wasn’t the sort of distraction he wanted.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, not beating around the bush now. “Tell me. If you’ve changed your mind just tell me.”

“I haven’t!” Elio assured him, the rise in his voice telling Oliver he was desperate for him to believe it.

“Then why-”

“Your hand tickles my foot.”

Oliver looked at his foot, realization dawning on him. “You’re ticklish.”

Elio shrugged, non-committal. “I guess.”

“That explains it.”

Elio flushed under Oliver’s involuntary grin. “I can’t help it. As soon as you reach for my foot my instincts kick in.”

“And you cannot handle it.”

Elio shoved him lightly. “Stop teasing.”

“You love it when I tease.” Not letting Elio reply, Oliver grabbed his ankle again, this time not letting him pull it away. “Relax. I really am planning on helping you.”

“What if I don’t want to be helped?” Elio asked, all but pressing himself against the wall. Oliver was sitting close to him, giving him very little space for movement. He could tell he was getting nervous, and Oliver would be a liar to say he didn’t enjoy it.

“Trust me.” He placed Elio’s foot in his lap, keeping one hand around the ankle to keep it in place.

Elio sighed. “I guess I have no choice.”

Oliver really did help him, and even if Elio yelled at him that he was killing him he admitted that he felt better when Oliver was done.

“Don’t be so smug about it,” Elio added, looking down and then back at Oliver.

“Who’s smug?”

“Have you looked in a mirror? That smirk can’t be described as anything but.”

Oliver drummed his fingers over Elio’s shin, happy to see him bite his lips as he fought to stay put. “Tell me, Elio. Are you ticklish anywhere else?”

“Not at all.” Elio tried pulling his feet away now, but even if he managed to they would still be just within Oliver’s reach; between them and the wall.

“Something tells me you’re lying.” Oliver turned to face him a bit more properly. “Wasn’t it better to speak than die?”

“What do you mean?”

“Lying isn’t speaking. It’s plagiarizing words that aren’t yours to utter yet.”

“Does everything have to be deep?”

“Of course. It’s us we’re talking about.”

A smile found Elio’s face at that. “Okay. I might’ve just plagiarized words that aren’t mine.”

“Meaning?”

“I’m ticklish.”

“Where?”

“I kind of want to not tell you and have you find for yourself, but I’m very aware over the fact that you actually will.”

“Of course. When else might I get another opportunity like this?”

Elio withdrew his feet completely, somehow managing to pull his legs up so that they were covering his torso. He hugged them tightly and sent Oliver a smile that could only be described as mischievous.

Oliver liked it when he was mischievous.

“Am I really to believe your knees aren’t sensitive?” Oliver asked. “Now that I think about it, I think I’ve seen you flinch when I touch you there before.”

“You haven’t,” Elio said, a laugh escaping his lips. “Who’s plagiarizing words now?”

“No, no, I swear it.”

Elio didn’t say anything, and for a moment they just watched each other, each of them biding their time. They heard laughter from outside, but no steps in their direction. No one was around to hear them; not even Mafalda, who kept rushing in and out of the house to serve dessert.

They were as alone as they could get.

Oliver reached out, but Elio managed to slap his hand away before he could touch him. He tried again and got the same result. Moving quicker now, he managed to sneak beneath Elio’s guarding hands, and he wasted no time in squeezing at both of his knees.

“Knew it,” he said triumphantly as Elio jerked away, his hands flailing now as he desperately tried to make it stop. “I could do this all day.”

Finding that the tickling wasn’t stopping, Elio started giggling uncontrollably, a sound Oliver wished he could record and cherish forever, like the music Elio kept transcribing.

“Stop it,” Elio begged, pulling his legs away and instead exposing his upper body to Oliver’s wiggling fingers. “Oliver, please!”

Oliver didn’t listen. Preferred making this boy laugh as if his life depended on it.

“Someone will hear us!” Elio cried, leaning closer to him as if that would make it stop.

“I have to try one last thing.”

It started with the feet and had to end with them too. Grabbing the one closest to him, Oliver danced his fingertips up the sole, though he only got one good tickle in before Elio kicked his hand away, but he reckoned that was enough.

“I’m satisfied,” he said, settling back down to watch Elio catch his breath with a smile.

“You’re awful.”

“What did we say about plagiarizing-”

“Yeah, yeah. Say that word one more time and I’ll make you pay for it.”

Oliver looked to his left, saw that no one was around, turned back and said, “Plagiarizing.”

Elio was stronger than he looked. Oliver would give him that.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my [tumblr](http://nhasablog.tumblr.com).


End file.
